


Dubest in the Business

by youmakemedizzy



Category: SHINee
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Bad Puns, Humor, Jinki is a Witcher, M/M, OT5 Friendship, Rating May Change, Romance, Witcher AU, im sorry, light gore, random exo members, this will probably end up being pretty long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-17 04:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9303722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youmakemedizzy/pseuds/youmakemedizzy
Summary: Lee Jinki is a Witcher, a superhuman hunter of dark creatures and monsters that invaded the world of humans long ago. Day in and day out he hunts these creatures, doing his best to help people along the way, determined not to be the heartless stereotype everyone believes Witchers to be.





	1. In Which We Meet Our Hero?

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so I know this is a weird intersection of interests, and many readers might have no idea what the hell the Witcher is. Feel free to skip this if you already know.
> 
> A "Witcher" is a superhuman monster hunter that was created by regular humans in order to hunt monsters which appeared in the world a long time ago in an event I can't remember the name of (Alignment of the Spheres, maybe?). They created the Witchers through potions and chemicals inserted into the bloodstream. The chemical process was extremely dangerous and excruciating, and most who went through it ended up dead, with only the strongest surviving the process. All Witchers were taken as children from their family/parents and forced to go through this excruciating chemical change, and then train in combat so they would be the perfect monster hunters. At first they were viewed very positively by the general populous, as they were dealing with a very serious monster threat, but as the monsters died and less and less monsters roamed the lands, Witchers became hated and feared due to their power, and are seen by most as heartless monsters who simply want money.
> 
> In the story, Jinki is a Witcher, and undertakes contracts set by people with a promise to give him money if he will slay a monster for them. Most Witchers have been killed by either the monsters they hunt, or people, and he is one of the few Witchers left.
> 
> All of this exists in a medieval world, with different countries, political factions, wars, etc. If you want to know more just google the Witcher. I know it's kind of confusing, so ask me if you're lost!

Jinki sat alone in a crowded tavern, eyes focused on a flagon of beer set before him on the table. Everything around him overwhelmed his senses, from the combined stench of the unwashed masses around him to the loud voices assaulting his ears. The raucous and drunk crowd around him made him uncomfortable, to say the least, but he had come here with a purpose.

He let the sounds, sights, and smells around him blend together in his mind, then filtered out all unnecessary stimuli, until all that was left was the murmuring of voices around him.

“Did you see the man sittin’ alone? I ‘ere e’s a witcher. Them folk’r better off…”

“That bitch slapped me! I was only tryin’ to get a bit of a feel, y’know?”

“M’crops are doing terrible lately. Those damn nekkers keep ruinin’ my fields…”

“Shh! If e’ is a witcher you know e’ can ‘ear you with those unnatural ears o’ ‘is."

“You’re going out tonight again, aren’t you?” A female this time.

He straightened up where he was sitting, immediately focusing on that conversation, the well-spoken words standing out amongst the peasant slang clearly.

“You know I have to. We came here specifically for this, why else we would be in this countrified hovel?”

Jinki snorted at that, taking a long swig of his beer. He casually glanced at the man and the woman next to him, both seated together in a corner of the room. The shadowed room did little to hide the platinum blonde hair of the man, or his fine facial features. The woman possessed equally blonde hair, her own features delicate themselves. The two were clearly related. The two were almost definitely the siblings he had been hired to track.

Jinki picked up his flagon, downing the rest of his beer. He stood up, leaving the empty flagon on the table, and approached the barkeep, keeping half of his senses trained on the couple. It wouldn’t do for them to leave without him noticing.

The barkeep was wiping down a flagon with a cloth that looked dirtier than the cup itself. She flung the dirty cloth over her shoulder, setting down the cup as she asked, “What can I do you for? Ya wan’ another beer?”

He shook his head. “That couple in the back. With blonde hair. You see them often?”

The barkeep studied him with sharp eyes. “That depends, Witcher. Ya got a coin or two?”

He nodded, reaching into his money pouch carefully and extracting a few coins, placing them on the counter in front of the barkeep. She glanced at the amount before nodding.  
“The two come in ‘ere every night. I dunno what they be doin’, considerin’ they never order anythin’ or talk to anyone,” she said.

“When did they start coming here?”

“Oh, about two weeks? Afore, we thought they was just some fat folk* lookin’ to mix with us common folk for kicks, but they was keepin’ to themselves, so I honestly dunno. I doubt they be up to any good,” she grumbled, looking annoyed about the two. Jinki assumed it was because they hadn’t bought anything. That was an amateur move. A barkeep was less likely to rat you out if you were potential money.

“Thank you,” Jinki said sincerely, placing another coin on the wooden counter. The woman’s eyes lit up, and she nodded her thanks, reaching forward and pocketing all of the coins on the counter.

“You be careful with them, Witcher. I ‘ere there be something…wrong, with ‘em,” she warned. He thanked her again, then paused, hearing the two get up from their table in the corner. They were leaving. He smiled at the barkeep, who looked flustered at the unexpectedly bright smile from the formerly dour man.

“What do you call a farmer with a tough life?”

“Ah…”

“Barley surviving.”

The woman had frozen, mouth open, eyes wide and blinking at the sudden pun. And then a chuckle fell out of her lips. He grinned at her and slipped away into the crowd as a full on belly laugh erupted from the woman, catching the attention of everyone inside the tavern, including the two who were making their way to the door. They paused for a moment in their walk to the door, their heads turning to look at the commotion, and he took advantage of their distraction to quickly slip out of the door ahead of them.

It was pitch dark outside, night having fallen long ago. The only light came from the full moon, the stars, and the lit torches in front of the entrance to the tavern. Jinki’s eyes easily saw through the darkness, the shadows proving no problem for him. A few drunk patrons were standing in front of the tavern, all of them ignoring him in favor of slurring drunken insults at each other. He quickly walked to the side of the tavern, positioning himself so that the siblings leaving the tavern wouldn’t see him as they left, but he could see them.  
A few moments later the door opened, the two stepping out of the tavern. He watched them walk away in silence as neither spoke. The woman took out a torch and lit it, while the two moved down the road. Jinki quietly followed them, making sure his footsteps made no noise, ready to dart to the side into the cover of the forest at a moment’s notice to avoid detection.

The couple continued walking for some time, Jinki patiently following them, before they stepped off the main road, off onto a small side path through the forest, heavily hidden by foliage. Jinki paused and waited a few minutes before following them, deciding to simply follow their scent and the sound of their footsteps instead of keeping them in sight. He’d wanted to keep an eye on them, but the chances of being detected were getting too high.

He started following them again, still taking care to be silent. It took only a few minutes to reach a small house at the end of the path, within a clearing in the forest. He stopped at the edge of the clearing, allowing his senses to be flooded with information. He could hear the rustling of the bushes, the soft sounds of animals, the slight whirl of the wind. Within the noises, he pinpointed the sound of the footsteps of the siblings within the house. Their location confirmed, he sat down and waited.

He glanced up at the night sky, noting the position of the moon, and slipped a phial of oil out of his pack, a tincture made of wolfsbane and dog tallow. He unsheathed his silver sword, carefully applying the oil to the blade with a cloth he kept especially for the purpose of applying oils to his swords. Having done so, he put the now half empty phial of oil back into his pack, which left at the foot of the tree, not wanting it to get in the way of the coming fight. He kept his silver sword unsheathed.

It only took a few more minutes of waiting before the siblings emerged from the house, muscles shifting under skin as the werewolf transformation overcame them. Jinki stood, casting the sign of Quen over himself as a magical shield that coated his skin in a yellow glow. Having done so, he quickly changed the sign in his mind mentally to Igni, to prepare to cast a gout of fire at the fire-weak werewolves. He would need to use every weakness of werewolves he knew of to win this battle, as werewolves possessed a very irritating ability to regenerate incredibly quickly, closing wounds almost as quickly as he could land them.

He stepped forward, the werewolves quickly noticing him as he left the cover of the forest. He stood steadily on the balls of his feet, ready to whirl away from an attack at any moment, eyes trained on the two wolves. They were monstrous things, bipedal wolves with bulging muscles and gaping maws, spittle dripping from their jaws.

They prowled forward, seemingly cautious, and he stood his ground. Suddenly the wolf on the left leapt at him, clawed arms extended to rip and tear. He whirled neatly out of the way, sword flashing as he turned. The wolf howled, a long and bloody gash having been cut into its side. The other wolf snarled in rage at seeing its wounded sibling and also leapt forward. Jinki dodged to its side, sweeping his free left hand at its exposed back, a gout of fire extending out from his palm and coating the werewolf’s fur in flames.

His eyes widened as he sensed the other wolf attacking, immediately jerking his body back in an abortive roll. A bang sounded as the magical shield he’d cast around himself exploded, the remaining power in the shield being used to drive the wolf back from the force of the blast.

Both wolves were advancing on him once again, the gash he’d cut into one’s side already starting to heal as the burned wolf’s skin also started to regenerate. He grit his teeth, knowing he would have to start being quicker about landing blows. The cursed oil on his blade would help score deeper blows in their sides and prevent regeneration, but the werewolf’s regeneration was extremely powerful. Against the two of them his only hope was a rain of blows fast enough that the wolves would have no time to recover. He steeled himself, and leapt.

As he had so far stayed on the defensive, letting the wolves come to him, the wolves were caught off guard by his newly offensive strategy. He slashed with his sword, scoring another blow in the same werewolf he’d slashed earlier. He didn’t stop there, raining a series of blows down on the wolf, determined to bring it down and advance on the other wolf. From there the battle blurred together into a whirlwind of sounds and sensations, until all that remained was his slightly heavy breathing in the night air. The two werewolves lay dead before him.

He sheathed his silver sword, pulling out a hunting knife in its place. He would have to take a trophy from both wolves in order to present proof of his kills to his contractor. He made quick work of sawing off the heads, depositing both in separate cloth sacks and tying the ends with rope.

He left the scene, then, having completed his job, and made his way back along the path to the road. From there he walked down the road back to the tavern, quickly attaching the werewolf’s heads to his horse’s bridle. The chocolate brown mare snorted, and he patted her on her head, swinging up to sit astride her. With a flick of the reigns they were off.


	2. In Which We Meet Our Prince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** marks a perspective change

Delivering the heads was easy enough. The noble who had given him the contract was relieved to be rid of the werewolf siblings, and paid with no fuss. Some clients decided that once the job was done, payment was unnecessary, and Jinki always regretted having to force the money out of them. 

Having traded the severed werewolf heads for money, he left the noble’s estate, deciding he might as well visit his best friend, Kibum’s, tavern while he was in the city. The walk from the estate to the tavern was long, and he enjoyed the walk, the streets relatively empty at such an early hour.

The tavern and inn was a rickety old thing from the outside, it’s façade dirty and faded from time. Above the entrance lay a small wooden sign, reading simply The Lock and Key. Jinki entered the building, surveying the familiar place. 

It was much nicer inside, with deep wine red wallpaper and dark-stained wooden flooring. Wooden tables littered the edges of a raised stage in the middle of the tavern, currently devoid of performers due to the early hour. A few patrons who had made use of the inn services of the tavern were seated at the bar, talking quietly among themselves with breakfast. They didn’t even glance up as he entered. The rest of the tavern was empty of anyone, including Kibum.

He sat at the bar, reaching into his bag to withdraw a worn book. He flipped through the book to the page he had last left on, resuming reading as he waited for Kibum to make an appearance. He could have gone searching for the man, but as this was simply a visit and non-urgent, he saw no point in seeking him out immediately. 

He lost track of time as he read, but was jerked out of his reading by a clearing of a throat across the bar. He lowered the book, revealing Kibum standing in front of him. The man was as immaculate as always, with perfectly coifed black hair and sharp, kohl-lined catlike eyes. He wore a rather elaborate velvet doublet with black pants, tucked in ostentatious heeled boots. 

“Manticore Venom’s Varied Properties,” Kibum read. “You’re reading that? I really don’t get how you can read that shit, it’s enough to put anyone to sleep.”

Jinki shrugged, carefully marking his place, and closing the book. “I had to read far worse when I was younger. Besides, you know how knowledge of things like this might end up saving my life.” 

Kibum’s eyes had darkened at the mention of Jinki’s childhood, but he didn’t pursue the subject, switching topics. 

“What brings you to the city? A contract?” 

“Yes. It was two werewolves this time,” Jinki informed him. 

“Two?” Kibum exclaimed, eyes wide. He knew exactly how dangerous werewolves could be, and just what kind of risk Jinki had taken in fighting them alone. “Jinki, you could have been killed easily against two werewolves! You could have at least taken Minho with you!” 

“You know I’ll never take him along to something like that,” Jinki answered calmly. “He isn’t a Witcher. He would only distract me by making me protect him. I know he’s a good fighter, and I’ll bring him along if I think it’s something he can actually help with.” 

Kibum looked frustrated as he ran a hand through his hair, mussing the perfect coif slightly. “I only want you to be safe. You know that.” 

Jinki’s hard expression softened, his eyes turning fond. Kibum was, after all, the first true friend he had ever had. It was only characteristic of a friend such as that to worry. Jinki was still unused to being cared for in such a way, especially with Kibum’s unique form of mothering. 

Their friendship had been gradual. It had started with a contract; Jinki had been contracted to track down and take down a wyvern that had been hunting along a road that ran from Novigrad to Ostenfurt, and had killed several merchants and travelers already. 

Kibum had been down to Ostenfurt on business, and along the route back had been attacked by the wyvern. He’d been a second’s time from death under the ripping claws of the wyvern when Jinki had arrived, tackling the wyvern off him. The two proceeded to fight, with Jinki emerging victorious. Kibum had thanked him, gifting him a free stay at his inn and tavern as payment. Jinki had accepted, and from then on occasionally appeared in the inn to stay. Their friendship had grown from there over time. 

“But you’re still an idiot.” Kibum’s voice cut into Jinki’s reminiscing, and he rolled his eyes. He could always trust Kibum to ruin a moment. 

Then Kibum blinked, glancing around as if suddenly looking for something or someone. “Where’s Minho, anyway?” 

“What, he isn’t here?” Jinki asked, confused. 

“He isn’t, but he was supposed to be back already. I only sent him on an errand to the market,” Kibum answered crossly. “That no-good lout probably went to the Ring instead.” 

“I could go get him,” Jinki volunteered, and Kibum raised an eyebrow. 

“Jinki, do I look like an idiot to you?” 

“Yes.” 

Kibum snorted. “I know you want to ‘go get him’ just so you can fight in the Ring yourself. Whatever. Knock yourself out. I have a few things I need to do anyway.” 

Jinki watched him walk away before leaving himself, the door of the tavern falling shut behind him. The streets of Novigrad were much busier now that the hour was later. Men and women bustled back and forth through the street conducting business and errands. Most ignored him, some glanced at him fearfully, while others glared openly at the sight of his cat-like slitted eyes and snow white hair. He ignored them, slipping in the crowd himself to makes his way toward the city docks. The occasional guard dotted the way. He carefully avoided them, taking care they did not see him. In his experience, most guards would eagerly seize a chance to harass a Witcher.

He arrived at the docks. The sea air became much more noticeable here, the salty fish smell invading his sensitive nose. A fresh breeze rolled in, carrying the scent of brine away for a moment. 

The docks were just as busy as the streets, if not busier, fishermen, sailors, and merchants filling the place. His eyes fell on a ring of sailors and fishermen down the way, cheering and yells blending into a roar, the sound of flesh hitting flesh joining the roar of sound. The Ring, the dockside fight club. 

As he entered the ring of men, the overwhelming stench of unwashed bodies and sweat became two times stronger. He ignored the smell with practiced ease, elbowing and fighting his way to the front of the crowd to see the two combatants within. 

He emerged from the crowd to see Minho, shirtless and with his fists up, facing a hulk of a man. Bruises dotted Minho’s torso, but his face was untouched, the handsome features pristine, his brown hair ruffled and in disarray. The other man was worse off, his right eye purpling and his lip split, blood running down his chin. 

The brute took a swing at Minho with his left arm, Minho dodging smoothly to the right. The giant man tried to surprise him with an instant right hook, but the punch was underpowered, thudding weakly into Minho’s abdomen. The man was thrown off balance, Minho taking advantage of the fact and slamming a fist into his face. The man went down, moaning weakly, and Minho had won. The crowd roared, some excited to have won their bets, others in disappointment at their losses. Most had won, knowing Minho would win, as Minho was a regular at the Ring and well-known for his skill.

Minho grins, fist raised, as his eyes found Jinki in the crowd. His grin widened and he made his way over. “Jinki!” He exclaimed, and instantly enveloped Jinki in a hug. Jinki stiffened slightly, awkwardly patting Minho on the back. “It’s been a while! You really should come by more often, you know how Kibum worries about you.” 

Jinki awkwardly shrugged. He wanted to come by more often, but there was something about the tavern that made him want to stay, and a Witcher in one place for too long was dangerous. So he wandered, resisting temptation, the steady warmth of Minho’s and Kibum’s friendship beseechingly calling him back.

“I’m guessing Kibum sent you by?” Minho asked, and Jinki nodded.

“I’ll go ahead and get back then,” he said. “He’ll probably nag me all day for this. Might as well get it over with. You’d better come by tonight so we can catch up.” And then he was gone, disappearing into the crowd. 

Jinki took the opportunity to approach the bookie, entering himself in for a fight. He needed more money anyway; the contracts were never enough to sustain him for long. The ensuing fights blurred together, until all that was left of him was the pounding of blood in his veins and the thrill of the fight.   
***  
Kim Jonghyun was nervous. Very nervous. His stomach seemed to be filled with butterflies, and his heart seemed to be somewhere in his throat. He stared at the door in front of him, something about it as foreboding as the horror stories Taemin used to tell him as a kid. He shivered, imagination running wild with possibilities of what could happen when he went into that room, until he felt a small hand lightly touch his back, and he jumped, relaxing as he realized it was only Sodam, his sister. 

“Relax, brother,” she said soothingly. “It will be fine. Mother and Father love you, you know that.”

“Yea,” he muttered. “That doesn’t mean they’ll let me do this. Father’s been talking about me taking over for him for years as if it’s all he wants in the world. You know he won’t hear of me doing anything else, much less something as “useless” as singing.” 

Sodam looked at him challengingly. “Yet you’re still going to do this. If you’re so sure of what his response will be, why are you doing it?”

“Because I’m not going to let myself rot in a life I hate,” he snapped. “We both know leadership is your skill, not mine. Even if I were to stay and take his place, I would only run this tiny kingdom into the ground. I would fail our people. You’d end up taking it over either way.”

“Then stop being so nervous, Jonghyun. You know you have to do this, grow a spine,” she said matter-of-factly, before getting up and walking away. 

He sighed, rubbing his face wearily. She was right. He had no choice but to do this. That didn’t mean he wasn’t worried. All his life, he had preferred to believe in his father’s love for him, rather than acknowledge his seeming indifference to what Jonghyun wanted. Yet, a few days ago, his father had called him inside his office to have a talk with him about his future and the future of the kingdom. 

The talk had not lasted long. His father had simply told him that soon, he would be expected to start working with his father, to learn the ins and outs of the kingship. He had sent him away before he could even collect his thoughts enough to protest. Jonghyun had left upset, mind whirling about what to do. 

He had concluded that all there was to do was talk to his father, and tell him that this was not what he wanted. That he was going to take his future into his own hands, to leave home and become a singer. Jonghyun’s passions lied with music, with movement and freedom, not with the cold chains of a kingship and a kingdom.

Newly determined, he stood up, brushing dust and dirt off his simple attire of brown leggings with a blue tunic, and walked stiffly up to his father’s office door, which he had been sitting on the ground staring at for the past hour. It was a good thing his sister had shown up, or he probably would have been there psyching himself up for another hour at least.

He knocked lightly on the door, knowing his father would hear him. There was a long pause, in which he waited nervously, fidgeting. Eventually his father’s voice emanated from within.  
“Come in.” 

He entered quietly, shutting the door behind himself with a very final resounding thud. He winced slightly, then turned back around, staring at the legs of his father’s desk and unable to look him in the eye. 

“What is it, Jonghyun?” he asked impatiently. “You know not to bother me when I’m working unless it’s important.”

“Father,” he said, then halted, searching for words. Why was this so difficult? Why was he so afraid of his father’s displeasure and anger?” 

Because this was his father, and he wanted to make him proud. The answer hit him like a blow. 

“What?” his father prompted, annoyance creeping into his tone. 

“I’ve been trying to tell you this for years, father, can you at the very least let me find the words?” 

His father huffed, but obligingly went silent, clearly waiting for the words to pass Jonghyun’s lips. 

“You’ve always told me, father, that I would be the heir to the kingdom, that I would continue what has been in our family for generations. Even though, all my life, I have shown a terrible aptitude for any kind of leadership. I can barely swing a sword, I can barely even find the words to tell you this! How am I supposed to confidently make speeches, to lead a kingdom, when I can barely do this?! I believe that you should pass the business on to my sister instead, father.” 

He paused, once again trying to find the words to express the second and most important idea of this encounter, singing, when his father interrupted, misinterpreting the pause as the end of his speech. 

“You know I can’t do that, Jonghyun,” he said, reproving. He seemed about to speak more when Jonghyun interrupted. 

“I’m not done.” 

His father straightened in his seat, leaning back, and staring at him head on. He didn’t back down from the challenging stare, locking eyes as he stated calmly,

“I think you misunderstand me. I will not be King. I want to be a singer, father, not a ruler.”

“A singer.” His voice was flat, devoid of any tone, and Jonghyun inwardly flinched. That wasn’t a good sign. 

He answered as decisively as possible anyway. “Yes.” 

His father was silent before he said, equally as decisively, “you will not be a singer.”

“Father- “,

“No. You are not going to be a singer, and that is final.”

“Do you want me to be miserable my whole life?! Because I will be, if I let you decide my life! I’ve tried telling you, my whole life, what I wanted, and what, you don’t even care- “, 

“Jonghyun!” His father’s shout cut into his own yelling, and he went quiet, glaring at him. 

“You’ll thank me for this later, son. Now go, I have work to do.” And with that, he went back to the papers in front of him, picking his quill back up. 

Jonghyun was rendered speechless, fury filling him to the brim and making him feel as if he would explode. He whirled around and out of the office, slamming the door behind him. He ignored the startled gasp of a servant in the hallway, storming down the hall to his room. 

He would not let his father, his birth, dictate his future. He slammed open the door into his room, stalking over to his closet, grabbing a leather bag and some simple clothes. He stuffed them into the bag, before turning and collecting small tools he deemed would be useful from around his room. He would need a tinder box, a dagger, his favorite leather jacket…

“I’m guessing he said no,” a voice said from behind him, and he turned to see Sodam. He nodded, for the first time since he left his father’s office realizing there were tears streaming down his cheeks. He angrily wiped his cheeks, sniffling, and Sodam visibly softened, stepping forward to envelop him in a hug.

“I’m sorry brother,” she murmured into his cheek, and he wrapped his arms around her tightly, letting her familiar form comfort him. 

He lost track of how long he spent simply letting her comfort him before he finally spoke. 

“I’m leaving tonight.” 

She didn’t seem surprised. She had walked in on seeing him packing a bag, after all.

“I had a feeling you would do this if he said no,” she said. “I’ll go to the kitchens and grab some food. You have money, don’t you?” 

He nodded, cheeks burning at the realization that he hadn’t thought of food at all. And yet she’d been prepared for this before he’d even thought of it as a possibility. 

There was a reason she was more suited to ruling than he was. She thought of the present and practical, while he dreamed of the future with his head in the clouds. 

“I won’t tell father on one stipulation,” she added, and he tensed. “You’re not going alone.” 

He pulled back from her embrace, feeling a sense of betrayal starting to well up. 

“But-, “ 

“Jonghyun, you barely know how to swing a sword, much less defend yourself. I am not letting my brother, older or not, adventure out into the world only to show up dead in a ditch a week later. I will not carry the guilt for that,” she said, voice strained. 

He went quiet at that, betrayal gone and in its place a feeling of shame. He hadn’t even thought of that either, much less the impact it would have on his sister, knowing she’d sent him off to that fate.

“Can I at least choose who I bring?” he asked hopefully, and she rolled her eyes, a fond smile on her face.

“Jonghyun, we both know you’re taking Taemin with you,” she said. 

A small smile broke out across his face at the idea of bringing his best friend, and she looked relieved to see it. 

“Finish packing, and I’ll go get the food.” 

She left, and he began packing again, this time putting much more thought into what he stuffed into his bag. He took the dagger out of his bag, instead tucking it into his boot. He might not know how to wield it, but even he could manage a surprise stab at an opportune moment. 

For the last needed item, he lifted a loose board from the flooring, pulling out a dusty bag full of coins. It was quite a few crowns, and enough to hopefully last him a few weeks before he would have to find alternate revenue. He tucked those into his bag, underneath everything else. 

With his packing done, he settled down on his bed to wait for Sodam. She didn’t take very long, showing up only five minutes after he’d finished packing. She carried with her a sack filled with food, along with another, much smaller bag. The second bag he eyed curiously, wondering what was in it. 

“This is the food I thought would be best,” she said, handing him the bag. He opened it, glancing at the contents. It was filled with bread, cheese, dried meats, and other foods that took a longer amount of time than usual to go bad. He closed the bag, tucking it into his other bag and looking at her expectantly. 

She held out the much smaller bag, small enough to fit into the palm of her hand, and he took it, opening it too. His breath caught at the sight of her jewelry, and he jerked his head up to stare at her. 

“Sodam, you don’t have to give this to me,” he protested. His sister did not have much jewelry, and he knew that everything in this bag must be all she had. 

“I know, Jonghyun,” she said. “But I know full well that you need money, and once you run out of whatever you have saved, you’ll have nothing. If you’re truly desperate, you can sell a few pieces. Besides, think of it as a gesture of faith. If you find a way to earn money before you run out, you’ll never have to sell it, and you can give it back to me next time we see each other.” 

He nodded reluctantly, conceding her logic, before tucking it, too, into his bag. 

He looks out the window of his room, heart sinking slightly as he sees the sun sliding down. It would be sunset soon. He’d have to leave now if he wanted to catch Taemin before dark. 

“Now,” Sodam says, “You have to leave now. Go talk to Taemin. And I sent out a servant on my way back here, both of you should have horses prepared at the stables. Now go.” She seemed perfectly composed, but Jonghyun knew her better than anyone, and she was barely holding herself together. 

He leaned forward, hugging her tightly for a moment. “I’ll see you again, sister,” he said, and before he could lose his nerve, he grabbed his bag, running out the door.

He hurried down the hall, clutching his bag, incredibly nervous. The way to Taemin was relatively short, as he lived in the guard’s barracks just outside of his family’s manor, surrounded by the town. Even with the short walk, it felt like an eternity before he finally arrived at the barracks, the guards giving him nods of respect as he walked by, used to his presence. His friendship with Taemin was well known. 

Taemin was in the middle of a game of Gwent with another guard when he found him. He looked relaxed and amused as his opponent glanced worriedly back and forth between the table and his hand. Jonghyun rolled his eyes. Taemin was very good at the card game, almost never losing, to the point that no one would play with him if there were stakes involved. There was always a new guard that didn’t know of his reputation yet, though, and got suckered into it. It was one of Taemin’s favorite pastimes. 

“Taemin,” he said, and Taemin looked up, finally noticing him. 

“Oh,” he said, almost immediately realizing something was wrong, and Jonghyun was relieved for once that his friend was so perceptive. 

“You’re lucky,” Taemin said to the guard, “that I’m feeling merciful tonight. If you concede now I’ll take half of the bet.” 

The guard hurriedly agreed, happy not to give all his money to Taemin, and was soon gone. 

“What is it?” Taemin asked as he counted the crowns. 

“We’re leaving tonight,” Jonghyun answered, and his head snapped up, all attention on Jonghyun. 

“Leaving?” he exclaimed. “Like…leaving the manor for a walk leaving? Or...,” 

“Leaving the kingdom for a while leaving,” Jonghyun said, and Taemin whistled lowly. 

“That’s a much more extreme leaving than I expected. Guess we’re leaving now?”

Jonghyun nodded, and Taemin stood after raking the crowns into his coin purse. 

“Alright, just let me pack, it’ll only take a sec,” he said, and went over to his bag. 

“No insignias,” Jonghyun reminded him, and he grunted in affirmation. 

His packing only took a few minutes, as he already had most of his clothing and food in a bag, and soon they were leaving the barracks, Taemin grabbing his sword on the way out. Guards watching them leave curiously. Yet no one dared question the prince. He winced. They would probably regret that tomorrow morning when his father got to them. 

“So are you going to tell me why we’re going on this little adventure?” Taemin asked offhandedly, buckling his sword to his waist, and Jonghyun nodded. 

He filled him in on the way to the stables, the story short for an event that would change his life forever. Taemin listened in silence to the whole thing. 

“Well damn, Jong, your dads fucked up,” he said at last, and Jonghyun laughed bitterly. 

“Yea, he is.”


	3. In which we have demons and monsters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** marks a change of perspective  
> * marks a scene break

Jinki felt the sting of a few bruises and cuts and as made his way back to Kibum’s inn. He hadn’t expected anyone to land hits on him, and his pride was smarting more than the bruises. As a Witcher he couldn’t afford to be sloppy enough to have drunken sailors manage to land a hit. Granted, the man who had landed the hits was no drunken sailor and was in fact quite a good fighter, but to Jinki that didn’t matter. He was still a man, and should not have been able to land any hits on the Witcher. He resolved to leave the city after staying the night at Kibum’s inn, deciding he needed to re-immerse himself in the unforgiving wilderness to sharpen his skills.

He opened the door to the inn, stepping into the familiar place. At this late hour, the inn was crowded with bar-goers. No drunkard was overly raucous, as Kibum had a strict policy when it came to drinking behavior in his inn, but it was clear that most of the crowd was at the very least tipsy. Jinki slipped through the crowd, aiming for the back room that he knew Minho and Kibum would be in. He nodded at the bartender, Yixing, on his way in, the two familiar with each other. The busy bartended nodded back, before turning to serve a customer.

He didn’t bother to knock on the door to the backroom, instead just walking in. Minho and Kibum were sitting together on the couch, talking, Kibum holding a glass of wine and Minho holding a beer. The two looked up, Kibum’s face lighting up at the appearance of Jinki and Minho simply smiling warmly.

“Jinki! I was hoping you would come back," Kibum said, relieved, and Jinki felt a flash of guilt. He had a tendency of coming to see Kibum and Minho and then just leaving directly after without even a goodbye. He didn’t really let himself think too long on why that was.

“Well, I’m back,” he said weakly, and Kibum’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re at least staying the night?” he asked, and Jinki nodded.

“You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?” Minho said, his usually cheerful demeanor subdued. Jinki nodded again.

“Dammit, Jinki, can’t you stay for more than a day for once?” Kibum asked, aggrieved.

“I need to go, Kibum,” Jinki protested. “I’ve only been here a day and I’ve already gone soft enough to let some guy land a few hits on me in the ring.”

“Some guy?” Minho asked, knowing that there was no way ‘some guy’ would manage to ever lay a hit on Jinki.

Jinki shrugged. “He was pretty tall, kind of skinny, had red hair. Some guy.”

“That isn’t just some guy, Jinki!” Minho exclaimed, exasperated. “Chanyeol is the reigning champion in the ring right now. He’s the best fighter there is in the entire city. Let me guess, you still beat him?”

Jinki blinked at the absurd question. “Of course, I haven’t gone that soft.”

Minho groaned in annoyance, rubbing a hand over his face. Kibum threw his hands up.

“Fine!” Kibum yelled. “If you want an excuse to leave before spending any actual time with us, go ahead. I won’t stop you.” He stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Jinki stared at the door, at a loss. As Jinki turned to look at Minho, he slowly lifted his head from his hands.

“Jinki,” he said slowly, “this is the first time you’ve visited us in months. Kibum has been worried out of his mind that something managed to kill you. And, after all this time, you finally show up. And you decide to leave after one day. This isn’t the first time, either. You’ve done this, over and over, since we met you.”

Jinki wouldn’t meet his gaze, his eyes staring at the wooden table in front of the couch Minho was seated on. His eyes fixated on a deep groove in the wood as guilt burned like bile in the back of his throat.

“Now, we’ve both tried to be understanding. We know that you’re not used to having anyone actually care about you. But I’m tired to worrying about you constantly, Jinki. I’m tired of watching Kibum work himself into frenzies because he thinks you’re dying in a ditch somewhere.”

Jinki closed his eyes, his heart in his throat and his stomach in shambles. This was what he’d been waiting for. They were going to tell him he wasn’t worth it, for him to go and never come back.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he slowly opened his eyes at the touch, staring up into Minho’s warm eyes. “We care about you, Jinki. Please try to understand that. Now, go talk to Kibum. You know how he’ll get if you let him stew in his anger.”

Jinki’s eyes widened. He wasn’t being kicked out?

Minho sighed at the expression, knowing exactly what his friend had thought. “We’ll never kick you out or stop being your friends, Jinki. But please, try to think more about how we feel when you leave us in the dark for months on end?”

Jinki nodded, still startled, and Minho smiled at him, patting him on the back. A crashing sound emanated from the front of the inn, and Minho sighed again. “I’d better go see what that is. It must be pretty bad if Yixing can’t handle it.” He walked out of the room.

Jinki stood alone in the room for a moment, feeling lost. He knew that he should go talk to Kibum, but he admitted, at least to himself, that he was scared. No matter what Minho said, he still feared that Kibum would decide he wasn’t worth the worrying, the stress, and that he would choose to expel him from his and Minho’s lives.

Despite this, he steeled himself. He had to talk to Kibum, whether he wanted to or not. He left the room himself, heading for the stairs that led to the upper levels of the inn and Kibum’s personal floor, which he lived in with Minho, along with the rooms used by the inn’s customers.

He walked up the stairs quickly, not eager to run into anyone along the way, and came to the top floor in moments. He was about to simply enter without knocking before he realized that, with Kibum so angry, that was certainly not a good idea. He knocked on the door, the sound somehow seeming timid.

There was a long pause, before finally Kibum’s voice came from inside.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Jinki,” he responded, and was met with an even longer pause.

“Come in,” Kibum said, and he tentatively opened the door to Kibum and Minho’s living room. Kibum was sitting cross legged on a deep maroon couch, another glass of wine cradled in his hands. Jinki worried for a moment that he was tipsy, before their eyes met, and he saw that Kibum’s eyes were clear.

“What is it?” Kibum asked shortly, and Jinki winced at his tone.

“Kibum, I’m sorry,” he said weakly, and Kibum raised one carefully plucked eyebrow.

“Are you now?” he said dully, slowly rotating the glass in his hands.

“Look,” Jinki said, moving his eyes from Kibum’s intimidating gaze to the floor. “I know I don’t really think of how you and Minho feel when I make these kinds of decisions. And I know that’s because I’m not used to having anyone care. But I also do it to protect you guys. Whenever a Witcher stays in one place too long, trouble always follows, and I can’t protect you guys from everything. So I guess I just decided that it would be for the best if I only show up every once in a while. And I didn’t really trust myself to stay much longer than a day, because when I come here…I don’t want to leave.”

He glanced up, seeing he had Kibum’s full attention. His formerly harsh-eyed stare had softened considerably.

“Why didn’t you just say that, you big lout,” he muttered, setting his glass down and pulling Jinki into a hug.

The door behind them opened, and Minho walked in, his hair ruffled and clothes rumpled. “Was there an issue in the bar?” Kibum asked and Minho nodded.

“Yea, some guy threw a chair at Yixing because he wouldn’t serve him another drink. The guy was pretty damn drunk,” Minho said.

Kibum snorted. “And Yixing couldn’t handle one drunk guy? Really?”

“Nah, he had him handled,” Minho said. “The problem was the guy’s drunk buddies. But I took care of them. You guys have a good talk?”

Jinki looked uncertainly at Kibum, who rolled his eyes. “We’re fine, Jinki, don’t look so scared,” Kibum said.

Jinki nodded, relieved. “I’ll try to come by more often and stay for longer periods of time,” he told them, and Kibum smiled widely, his catlike eyes shining.

“Good,” Minho said, “maybe then in our spars I’ll finally be able to land a hit on you.”

Jinki scoffed. “Like I said, I haven’t gone that soft,” he said, smirking.

***

Jonghyun hated this forest. It was official.

Every step he took sunk his feet into soft, bog-like peat, his once pristine leather boots coated in muck. Mosquitoes swarmed around him, and his arms and legs seemed like they were coated in red mosquito bites even thought he had leggings and a leather jacket on.

Somehow Taemin seemed indifferent to all of this, miraculously untouched by mosquitos and seemingly floating over the ground and avoiding the quicksand-like ground. Jonghyun glared at him viciously as he slapped yet another mosquito away from his face. How dare Taemin not suffer with him in this hell.

“Yah, Taemin, how the hell are you not suffering?” He asked, grimacing at the ground as his boot sunk too deeply into the ground. He yanked it out with a loud squelch as Taemin answered.

“Because I’m perfect,” he said, turning a beatific smile to Jonghyun. Jonghyun scowled.

“That’s not an answer,” he muttered, and Taemin rolled his eyes.

“It’s because I’m actually used to this place,” He said patiently. “You’ve been in your palace for most of your life, and when you do leave it’s with a giant squadron of guards and you only travel on horseback. You’ve never been in a harsh environment in your life.”

Jonghyun supposed that that was true. He had lived a rather pampered life as the next in line for his Kingdom’s throne. Although he didn’t understand how being familiar with the forest translated into Taemin being immune to foot sucking bog monsters and mosquito armies.

As if he could read his mind, Taemin, chuckled, saying, “I brought bug spray and I’m a light stepper.”

Bug…spray?

“You had bug spray this whole time and you didn’t let me use some?!” Jonghyun shrieked, and Taemin laughed.

“You never asked,” he said smugly, and reached into his bag, shoving a small spray bottle at him. “Don’t use it all.”

Jonghyun, annoyed, sprayed the stuff on himself and handed it back to Taemin, grumbling about good for nothing best friends.

“Hey, I came with you on this sudden trip to nowhereland, most best friends wouldn’t even do that much,” Taemin protested.

Jonghyun went quiet then, staring down at the ground. It was true that he had no idea of where to go. The two of them had ridden their horses for quite a ways, before Taemin had recommended abandoning them in favor of getting off the road. They’d ended up selling the horses in the next town they’d come across, before advancing on foot and eventually ending up in this forest.

With no plan of where to even go, Taemin had led him here. He’d said that they were heading for the neighboring country of Redania, for a city called Novigrad. Jonghyun had no idea why he’d chosen that country and city, but he hadn’t asked. Taemin knew more about the world outside of his Kingdom than he did, sheltered as he’d been.

He stumbled slightly as one of his boots was once again sucked into the muck, pulling it out with difficulty. He leaned against a tree, aching and sore, not used to this kind of travel.

“Can we rest, Taemin?” He asked, and Taemin glanced at him, noting his weariness.

“I would say yes,” he said quietly, “but it’s too dangerous here. I already took a risk just taking you to this forest. We shouldn’t stay here longer than necessary to evade the King’s scouts that are looking for you.”

“Dangerous?” Jonghyun asked, suddenly alert, his eyes scanning the shadowy trees behind Taemin’s still form.

“Dangerous,” Taemin confirmed, doing his own scan. “This forest is well known for the creatures that live here. There are nekkers, ghouls, hags, foglets, you name the monster and it’s probably here.” He grimaced. “If I didn’t believe we had no choice I would never have brought you here. Now come on, we need to move.”

Jonghyun followed him, more alert now that he realized exactly how dangerous this place was. Despite his determination to watch for the monsters, he was exhausted, having stayed up all night and half of the next day to get as far away from his Kingdom as possible. As determined as he was, his exhaustion was getting to him, and his vision was swimming as he sank into a kind of walking haze.

They walked for what felt like forever, his focus fading in and out. He was jerked out of his exhausted fog by yelling, and then he was suddenly falling, his back slamming into the ground. His breath was knocked out of him and he wheezed, desperately trying to breathe for a moment.

A few seconds later he heaved in a relieved breath, air rushing into his lungs and his head spinning. He vaguely registered more yelling from in front of him, and he shoved himself up on one arm, his swimming vision barely making out Taemin’s form, sword drawn, a shadowed creature with claws extended swiping at him. And all he knew was darkness.

*

He woke up to the sounds of a crackling fire and murmuring voices. He was pleasantly warm, his body resting on what felt like a thin bedroll. He closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth and comfort before a shooting fear slammed into him. He jerked up, eyes wide, desperately calling out, “Taemin!”

“I’m right here, Jong,” a voice said next to him, and he whirled, relieved to see Taemin crouched down next to him. He looked exhausted but was otherwise unharmed, and Jonghyun surged forward to clutch at his chest.

“I remember you fighting something, and I couldn’t see or breathe and I thought you were dead or injured but I couldn’t do anything,” he babbled mindlessly into his chest, and Taemin made a soothing noise, rubbing his back.

“It’s okay, I’m fine,” he whispered, and Jonghyun only clutched at him harder, realizing there were tears in his eyes. He was the one who’d brought Taemin out here. He was the one who had almost gotten his best friend killed, all to save him.

“I managed to fight off the ghoul,” he continued. “It would have been easier if I were well rested, but I managed to fight it with minimal injury. It was a good thing we were near the road. I carried you there, and I got some help.”

“Help?” he questioned, confused, before remembering that there were multiple voices murmuring earlier. He jerked back off Taemin’s chest, staring wide-eyed at the two men on the other side of the fire, both watching him calmly. He felt an embarrassed flush rise in his cheeks at the thought that these two strangers had seen him like that with Taemin.

“Jonghyun, this is Joonmyeon,” Taemin said, gesturing at one man. He was handsome, with a slightly chubby face and a kind smile as he smiled at Jonghyun in welcome. “And this is Sehun,” he continued, gesturing to the other man, who simply stared at him impassively. Whereas the other one was quite handsome, Sehun was somehow more handsome still, although his brooding stare was quite intimidating.

“It is good to meet you both,” he murmured shyly, and Joonmyeon smiled widely.

“I’m glad we could help,” he said kindly. Sehun simply nodded at him.

“You should eat,” Taemin said, and Jonghyun noticed a pot stewing over the fire. An appetizing looking stew boiled inside. Taemin ladled some of the stew into a tin bowl, handing it to Jonghyun. He blew on it for a moment before taking a sip.

“So,” Joonmyeon started, and Jonghyun looked up from the stew to him. “What is Prince Jonghyun of Westeria doing out here?”

Jonghyun froze, staring over at Taemin, who still looked calm as if some random man hadn’t just identified a prince on the run.

“Relax,” Joonmyeon said, noting his fear. “We won’t tell anyone. I’m just curious.” He shrugged. “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want.”

Jonghyun took another sip of his stew, stalling, before sighing and telling them what had led the two of them here.

“A singer, huh? How’s your singing voice?” Sehun spoke up for the first time, and Jonghyun looked at him, startled.

“Good,” he said quietly, staring back down into his stew.

“Will you sing something for us?” Joonmyeon asked gently.

Jonghyun didn’t know if he wanted to sing for these strangers, but they had helped him, and were being nothing but kind. And if he wanted to be a singer, he would have to sing in front of strangers all the time. Still, he couldn’t help but be self-conscious of his voice. He took a deep breath, starting to sing. The words flowed easily, the song something he'd sung multiple times before.

Joonmyeon looked dumbstruck, his eyes wide. Even expressionless Sehun looked startled. Jonghyun flushed at their expressions, looking down at his stew and taking another sip as he stopped singing.

“Your voice is beautiful,” Joonmyeon breathed, “If you can sing like that, you’ll have no trouble making a living as a singer. None at all,” he declared, shaking his head in disbelief.

Jonghyun finished the stew, turning to Taemin. The man had stopped saying anything, simply staring sightlessly at the fire, the absolute exhaustion clear in his slumped form.

“Taemin,” Jonghyun said, and he jerked as if awoken from a trance, looking at Jonghyun. “Sleep,” Jonghyun commanded, and Taemin, too tired to argue, crawled over to where Jonghyun had been sleeping, collapsing down and falling asleep in moments.

“So where are you two going?” Joonmyeon asked. “You must have a destination in mind?”

“We’re going to Novigrad,” Jonghyun answered, and Joonmyeon lit up. “We’re going there too! To visit a couple of friends of ours. You could travel with us if you like.”

Jonghyun looked warily between the two of them. “If that’s…okay with you?” he asked uncertainly, and Joonmyeon nodded eagerly.

“Of course it is! We’re happy to have you! Isn’t that right, Sehun?” he said to his companion. Sehun nodded, grunting out a sound Jonghyun assumed meant something somewhere between “yes” and “I don’t care.”

“Then we’ll travel with you,” Jonghyun decided, and Joonmyeon beamed.

“We should all get some sleep,” he said, “before the sun rises. It’ll be a long day.”

Jonghyun stared up at the dark night sky. Had it really already been two days since he left home? It felt like hours.

“I’ll take the first watch,” Sehun said, breaking his silence, and Joonmyeon nodded in easy acceptance.

“I’ll take second,” he said. “We should let these two sleep all night. They must be exhausted.”

Jonghyun smiled at him gratefully. Usually, he would protest, but he already felt the claws of exhaustion sinking into him yet again. He sank down onto the edge of the bedroll Taemin was asleep on, cuddling up to his friend. Taemin instantly latched onto him, pulling him into his arms. Jonghyun sighed happily. He hadn’t cuddled with his friend in years since they were children, and he had to admit he had missed this. He sank into sleep, comfortable in Taemin’s hold.


End file.
